Perfectly Imperfect
by LisaT
Summary: A retelling of 'Imperfection' from KJ's POV. PLEASE R & R. COMPLETE. JC, Seven, senior crew.
1. Chapter 1

I've always thought TPTB missed a wonderful opportunity in so many ways with the seventh season episode 'Imperfection.' This story attempts to remedy that. It's in two layers: the narrative framework, which takes place back in the AQ, and the bulk of the story, which is told from Kathryn Janeway's POV. Although I'd say this is primarily a crew story, there's a very strong J/C element running throughout. I've decided to follow M.C. Moose's wonderful example and take the Janeway-Chakotay relationship as a matter of fact; therefore, I wouldn't call this a romance story as such. PLEASE PLEASE review or email me at with feedback. Constructive criticism or flattery only, please.

Disclaimer: The Uusual.

**p e r f e c t l y I m p e r f e c t **

p r o l o g u e

_Phoebe Janeway stared at her elder sister with wide blue eyes. Her gaze then flicked from Kathryn to the big man sitting beside her, their hands entwined on the real wooden table that stood in the centre of the traditional kitchen in the Janeway homestead, Bloomington, Indiana. _

"_How did you do it, Chakotay?" Phoebe blurted out at last. _

_Her sister raised an auburn eyebrow at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_Phoebe moved her hands in an expansive gesture. "She's so- so _relaxed_! It's like she's finally decided it's OK to be human."_

"_I've always known I'm human!" Kathryn retorted defensively as Chakotay's hand tightened on hers._

_Phoebe did not see the gesture, and shrugged of her sister's disclaimer. . "Yeah, sure. You've always been a perfectionist, Kath, and it only got worse once you entered Starfleet. I used to wonder how Mark managed to put up with you, but figured he was so uptight himself it likely didn't matter, but now-"_

"_Yes?" Kathryn prompted, glaring._

_The glare had no effect. _

_Phoebe cocked her head to one side, and grinned. "Doesn't work, Kath. I'm not one of those poor blighters on your crew. Anyway, as I was saying, I expected you to be even more anally retentive after seven years in the Delta Quadrant being Captain for twenty-four seven-"_

"_Phoebe!"_

"_-but instead you're actually someone I recognise. A woman. My sister, Kathryn Marie. So, I want to know what you did to her, Chakotay?" Phoebe flashed her sister's second in command an evil grin. "Beside the obvious, of course."_

_Kathryn turned an interesting shade of crimson, and Chakotay tried not to laugh. _

"_Why do you assume it's my doing?" he asked when he knew he could keep a straight face. _

"_Oh, please. Kathryn's an old stick-in-the-mud. She'd never change her ways unless she was made to."_

"_Hey! Nobody makes me do anything!"_

_Phoebe snorted. _

_Chakotay squeezed Kathryn's fingers, and gave her a very gentle smile. "Actually, I had very little to do with it," he admitted. "Much as I hate to say it, I'd have to agree that your assessment of Kathryn was sound until- Ouch!"_

"_You deserved it!"_

"_And you've been taking lessons from B'Elanna!"_

"_What makes you think I needed them, Commander?"_

_Phoebe banged on the table. "Never mind that. Kathryn, leave the poor guy alone. Chakotay, get on with it."_

"_Yes, ma'am," Chakotay said meekly, and found himself the recipient of two alarmingly similar glares. He shook his head slightly, and continued. "For most of our journey, Kathryn was as you described her. In fact, difficult as it may be to believe, she became worse as the years go on. That's not a criticism," he added quickly, "simply a fact. I'm not sure you can understand what it was like for Kathryn out there, Phoebe. Hell, I was her First Officer, and even I wouldn't claim to fully understand. It's a testimony to your sister's strength that was she was able to get through it at all."_

"_Albeit rather singed around the edges," Kathryn murmured. _

"_That's experience for you, Kathryn," Chakotay said, and Phoebe knew his attention was now totally focused on her sister. "You made a lot of excellent decisions- and some very bad ones. You reaped the whirlwind on both, and learned from them. That shows you're capable of growth and change, and at our ages, that's no bad thing." His eyes twinkled as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. _

"_Nice of you to say so, but we both know it wasn't until Seven nearly died that I made any real attempt to change."_

_Kathryn's voice was soft and pained, Phoebe thought, and her fingers played with her coffee cup in a nervous movement that Phoebe remembered from their shared childhood. Suddenly, she felt awkward and guilty. _

"_I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I've obviously stumbled on some sensitive ground here. I didn't mean to intrude." _

_Kathryn looked up at her, and smiled- or tried to. "It's OK, Phoebs. You're my sister- my baby sister! I guess it would be naïve of me to expect you to accept any changes you see without question. You never have before!" _

_Phoebe saw her sister's left eyelid flutter slightly in a tentative wink, and realised that the older woman was trying to retain some of the earlier lightness. She forced a grin. _

"_Yeah, nosy little sis, that's me."_

_Despite the attempt at levity, an uncomfortable silence descended. _

"_Are you going to tell Phoebe?" Chakotay prompted gently. "Try telling it like you remember it, as you lived it. I think it would be good for you, Kathryn. "_

_Kathryn raised her eyes to his face. "Yes." She took a deep breath and faced her younger sister, blue eyes meeting blue. _

"_It's nearly a year ago, now, shortly after the Unimatrix Zero episode. Tom and B'Elanna had just got married, and for once, things were going well. We even succeeded in contacting the families of our Borg twins- Azan and Rebi." Kathryn paused and sat in silence, her gaze distant. "It started the day the children left…." _


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I didn't make it clear in this first post that is multipart. So far, eight parts and counting, but I'll hold the others until I know it's worth posting them...; ) BTW, spoilers for _Imperfection._ References to: _Equinox, Collective, Unimatrix Zero, Child's Play.  
_

p a r t o n e

We were in transporter room one, Seven, Icheb, the kids, the twins' mother- a tall, slender woman with a kind face and nice eyes- and I. They'd even offered to take Mezoti. I didn't know whether I was sad or glad for that last. She and my Assistant have become very close, almost like sisters. Naomi will miss Mezoti, and I'm sure her small friend will do likewise.

Now young Mezoti, her large, wise eyes seeming incongruous in her thin face, is standing before Icheb, and I feel my eyes mist over. They've been through so much, all of them. Looking at them now, and not for the first time, I thanked whatever deities exist that I had not, after all, had to destroy them.

"It's not too late," Mezoti is saying to Icheb. In anyone else I'd have called that tone wistful, but Mezoti admires Seven tremendously and does her best to imitate our eldest drone's impassive voice. "You could come with us," she urges.

Icheb looks down at her. His face is soft. "And you could stay on Voyager," he reminds her.

Mezoti's face falls. For a moment, she looks like the eight year old child she should always have been. "Adapting to your absence will be difficult," she tells Icheb, doing her best to maintain her Borg persona.

Icheb, always-ironically- the most human of our Borg quintette, smiles down at her. Azan and Rebi have always been so close, leaving the other two to draw inexorably together. Especially since the death of the baby.

"I will miss you," Icheb admits to Mezoti. The little girl looks stricken, and I feel my heart constrict.

As the children turn to Seven, who has been their mentor, guide, and surrogate mother these last months, I have to struggle even harder to maintain my composure. Seven would never admit it, but I know she loves these children with all the understated passion of which she is capable.

And they love her. That's plainly obvious in Mezoti's face as she steps towards Seven and I.

I reach out and touch the child's shoulder, and caress her cheek. She accepts the open affection with surprising ease, but perhaps that's because her entire attention is focused on Seven.

I let my hand drop from Mezoti and move away, towards Icheb, to give Seven, Mezoti, and the twins some privacy in these last moments together. His eyes are grieved, but I manage to resist the temptation to offer him facile, but ultimately meaningless, tactile comfort.

I turn my attention back to Seven. Mezoti is standing before her, saying something about learning the manners of the twins' people. She mentions customs of greeting and farewell….and then my tears really do nearly fall, as this child, who has been violated in a way that no child should ever be violated, says "..but I prefer the human way," and throws her arms around Seven with a lack of self-consciousness I thought I'd never see.

Seven- my proud, independent former drone-_cum_-friend-_cum_ unofficial science officer-_cum_ surrogate daughter- is frozen. Then, for perhaps the first time in her life, she returns an embrace, her arms folding lightly around the child, and then tightening protectively, possessively.

I blink. She's come so far. I remember the frightened, but ultimately aloof, young woman I freed from the Borg nearly four years ago. If someone had told me then, that morning when she paced the brig and threatened to kill me, that four years later I would see her hold a child with tenderness and love, I would never have believed them. I find myself wishing for Chakotay's presence. My first officer, a man of great tenderness himself, would appreciate Seven's gesture. Appreciate it, and be overwhelmed by it. Just as I am. Furtively, I wipe my eyes, but for once I don't care that others can see. This is, above all, a family occasion.

I watch as Mezoti steps back, and the twins fling themselves on Seven with a joint enthusiasm that startles her- and the rest of us. And then the transporter beam catches them, and they're gone…

A strange silence lingers in the air. Seven, probably without realising it, has gravitated towards me, and it's my turn to feel protective. In spite of her nearly twenty-eight years, at this moment she's younger than the sixteen year old Icheb, who is clearly dealing better with all this than she is.

Not that that's so surprising. Icheb was assimilated less than two years ago; he'd already formed a distinct personality, a character, and regaining his individuality has actually been less traumatic than the discovery of his parents' betrayal.

Seven, on the other hand, was assimilated at the age of six. Her decision to continue using the Borg designation of Seven of Nine rather than her human name of 'Annika Hansen' speaks volumes about the differences between her and the rest of our young refugees, who have chosen-with her encouragement- to reclaim their own names.

I place my arm around Seven, and judge her vulnerability by the fact that, for a split second, she leans against me. As soon as I feel her stiffen again, I step away. Then, after looking from Icheb to Seven and back again, I leave for the bridge.

In the turbolift, I find myself thinking that Seven's left eye, the one with the optical implant, had seemed to shine… with unshed tears? Seven, crying? If so, that was another step in regaining her humanity.

Despite my own pain at the loss of the children, I'm smiling as I step out of the 'lift and make my way to the Big Chair.

Perhaps all things really do work together for good…

I exchange glances and smiles with my First Officer before settling down to work. It looks like it's going to be a good day.

"_I remember that," Chakotay interjected. "Despite the fact that I knew you were unhappy about the kids, and for Seven, losing them, you came to the bridge with a bounce in your step."_

_Kathryn grinned at him. "Yes, and you thanked the spirits for it, didn't you, Commander? Think I don't know that my bad moods make your job more difficult?" Her grin faded as less pleasant memories ran through her mind._

"_It's all right, Kathryn."_

"_I don't deserve you."_

"_Sure you do. Now get on with the story. You've got Phoebe on tenterhooks here."_

_Kathryn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "Yes, she's barely hanging on to the edge of her seat. Oh, all right, I'll get on with it. _

"_Everything changed in the early hours of the morning. I'd tried, as I so often do, to get some sleep. When the exercise proved it's usual futility, I slipped out of bed- quietly, so as to not wake Chakotay- and settled down with my copy of the Inferno and a mug of coffee. Decaf. Then my badge chirped…"_


	3. Chapter 3

p a r t t w o

"Neelix to the Captain!"

Our morale officer's voice is panicky and I heave a sigh. I'm tired, all the more so since this is rapidly becoming a white night. The last thing I want to deal with right now is one of Neelix's minor crises and major hyperbole.

I reach over for my jacket to tap the badge. "Janeway here," I say softly, keeping my voice low.

"Captain, you've got to get down to sickbay!" Neelix says urgently. "Seven of Nine, she- she fainted! In the mess hall!" Neelix's voice rises as he finishes, and I wince.

I hear the rustling and the soft grunt that always attends Chakotay's wakening, and shake my head. So much for not disturbing the poor man.

"I take it Seven's with the Doctor now," I say in my most soothing tone, with just enough Captainly authority to halt Neelix's near hysteria. At least, that's the idea.

Chakotay, eyes heavy with sleep, stumbles over to me. "Kathryn?"

"Captain?" Neelix's voice echoes, almost comically. He sounds startled and I stifle a groan.

"Yes, Neelix."

"Captain, there's something very wrong with Seven. She-she- her implants, they regenerated!"'

That gives me an unpleasant jolt. Until now, I've been convinced that Neelix is simply over-dramatizing, as usual. I swallow and put down my mug, the coffee turning sour in my mouth.

"Regenerated?" I repeat.

There's a pause. I hear a murmured conversation through the open comm link. I raise my eyebrows and look at Chakotay, who now appears considerably more alert.

"Captain," Neelix's voice says again. "I gotta go. Sam's just come in. Naomi's having nightmares."

"Tha- Oh." My brows fly up again and I shrug. "Janeway out," I murmur, more out of habit than anything else since Neelix has already deactivated the link.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay says again, rousing me from my reverie. He pushes a mug of steaming coffee- the real thing, this time- into my hand.

"Is there something wrong with Seven?"

I take a sip, and feel slightly better as my favourite form of organic suspension courses through me. I hadn't realised I was so cold. I clutch the cup and look up at my First Officer and partner. "Neelix says she collapsed in the mess hall," I explain softly. "There seems to be something wrong with her implants."

Chakotay looks concerned and I know it's as much for me as for our resident ex-Borg. "Are you going down there?"

I nod and take a final gulp of the coffee. Then I reach for my jacket and shrug it on. My hands are shaking, very slightly. Chakotay puts a hand out to brush my hair behind my ears, and he zips my jacket with a tenderness that brings tears to my eyes.

"Go to sickbay," he whispers. "I'll see you later."

I nod again and try to swallow my fear and smile. As I leave our quarters, I tap my badge and inform the Doctor that I'm on my way. He sounds relieved to hear my voice, even though he grunts when I tell him of my informant.

He meets me at the door of sickbay.

"I'm glad you're here," he says. He sounds uncharacteristically subdued. "Seven still hasn't regained consciousness. I wanted to wait until you got here before reviving her."

I glance at him and move towards my protégée, prone on the biobed. Her face is pale, and with those piercing eyes shut, she looks very young and very vulnerable. The Doctor jabs her neck with the hypospray and I lean over as Seven's lids begin to flutter.

"You lost consciousness in the Mess hall," I tell her she looks up at me questioningly. "Your body's begun to reject your implants."

Her eyes go wide, and she glances over at the Doctor.

He speaks gently. "I'm afraid it's a result of that glitch we found in your cortical node."

I look up at him. Glitch? What glitch? He does not meet my eyes, focusing instead on the young woman on the bed. His voice is still soft. "Apparently, it's more serious than we thought."

I don't like the sound of this, but I'm still not unduly worried. I look at Seven. The Doctor has become experienced in the ways of Borg implants over the past couple of years, but Seven is still our undisputed expert.

"The node is destabilising," our undisputed expert says, sounding rather like she's submitting a particularly boring sensor report.

The Doctor is gentle but implacable. "It's no longer able to regulate your implants. They're shutting down one by one."

Seven sits bolt upright at this, and for the first time, I see a glimmer of some emotion in her eyes. She swallows, and does her best to speak calmly.

"When you've disconnected implants in the past I've always adapted," she says, her tone daring the Doctor to disagree.

I see the Doctor shrug out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to look directly at him. His dark gaze is compassionate.

"Minor implants," he reminds Seven. "An assimilation tubule here, a few nanoprobes there- nothing crucial to your human physiology. _These _implants control your vital functions." _Your vital _human_ functions_ goes unsaid.

We could replace one, I think, or the other, but both? I turn my attention back to Seven. As usual, she's speaking the truth plainly, and I wince at her words and- even more- at her tone.

"Without my cortical node to regulate them, I'll die."

I see her swallow, and I know that my earlier impression of her vulnerability was not mistaken. All the same, in some part of me I'm relieved when she points out, with her customary arrogance, the adaptability of Borg technology.

_That's_ the Seven we know and love, I think wryly. Confident. Assured.

"My cortical node will repair itself in time," she announces with finality. As far as she's concerned, the discussion is over.

She slides towards the edge of the bed, and the Doctor and I exchange glances. We both know that Seven has settled the situation in her own mind, and, if not stopped, will return blithely to Astrometrics and her usual routine. We can't allow her to do that. I nod at the Doctor and he takes the cue, but he sounds hesitant, unwilling, knowing what he's destroying.

"I don't think so, Seven. If anything, the deterioration is accelerating." He's as certain as she was a moment ago. Seven opens her mouth to argue, and I know it's time for me to intervene.

"You'll have to stay here for observation," I tell her gently, but with enough edge to force her to listen.

Seven remains her usual obstinate self. Her chin goes up a few millimetres, in a gesture I recognise. It's odd to see one of your own mannerisms in another, especially when that other is not a blood relative.

"I think I've been sufficiently observed," Seven insists. Almost as if she believes that if the problem is not spoken of, not addressed, then it will cease to exist.

I bite my lip and glance at the Doctor. "Would you excuse us, please?"

He huffs, but obeys the request. I move closer to Seven, invading her personal space deliberately and forcing her to maintain eye contact.

"I'm sorry for what's happening," I say forcefully. "You have every right to be angry, but that _isn't_ going to help us solve this problem."

She's still adamant. "The node will correct itself," she repeats- but I know her well enough to detect the subtle but creeping uncertainty. I hate to push her into confronting that, but I don't think I've much choice.

"Suppose it doesn't, for the sake of argument," I say. Her face looks shuttered, and I cannot bear to destroy her optimism. She's so young- in more ways than one. I speak more gently. "Is it possible to replicate a new one?"

Something resembling despair and twisted pride flashes in her eyes for a moment and then is gone. "The technology is too complex."

I take a deep breath. I won't accept this. I won't let her die. She's come too far to give up on her now. A thought occurs to me.

"What if this had happened when you were part of the Collective?" I ask. "How would the Borg have repaired the damage?"

Seven drops her head, refusing to meet my eyes. "They wouldn't have," she admits. "Trying to repair a node would be a futile exercise. The Borg would simply replace it."

I stare at her for a long moment as an idea begins to form.


	4. Chapter 4

p a r t t h r e e

By the time I arrive at the Bridge, my idea is fully fledged, and I make a beeline for my Ops officer.

"Harry, we passed a Borg debris field six or seven days ago just outside the Yontasa Expanse." He looks at me, his open face showing his thoughts. I ignore it for the moment, and give the order. "See if you can find it on long range sensors."

"Yes, ma'am." It's not crunch time- yet- but I let it go.

Chakotay's voice sounds behind me. "It's not every day we go looking for the Borg. What's up?"

I turn to face him, slowly. I see the concern in his eyes, and I know he's remembering our earlier conversation. "Seven needs a new cortical node," I say. We exchange a long silent look, and our communion is broken by Tuvok's emotionless voice.

"Captain, need I remind you the Borg often return to salvage damaged cubes."

I look at my old friend, my Chief of Security. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Chakotay speaks again, and I know from his tone that he's speaking as my First Officer. "I want to help Seven as much as anyone," he says, "but if we're not careful we'll _all_ end up with cortical nodes."

The glance he shoots at me, and then at Tuvok, tells me his thoughts. It's only been a couple of months since Tuvok, B'Elanna, and I were assimilated ourselves, during our efforts to free the drones of Unimatrix Zero.

I meet his gaze, acknowledging his concern in all its many layers. "That's why I'm taking the Flyer," I tell him flatly. "Alone."

My First Officer's jaw hardens, and I see a flicker of anger, quickly controlled, in his dark eyes, but before he comments, or protests, Harry tells us he's located the Borg debris field.

I give my orders without looking at him, keeping my body, my eyes, focused on my lover. "Transmit the co-ordinates to the Flyer." I pause, look away from Chakotay, and look back again. Deliberately, I speak gently. "You have the Bridge, Commander."

Chakotay says nothing. It's Tom Paris, our irrepressible pilot, who speaks up, his voice breaking the tension in the room.

"With all due respect, Captain, the last time you took the Delta Flyer to confront the Borg it ended up in a couple of thousand pieces." The words are cheeky, typical of what I've come to expect from him, but the steady gaze he fixes on me tells me more than his words, and I force a smile at him.

"I intend to bring it back in one piece this time," I assure him, trying to keep my voice as light as his.

Tom's blue eyes never leave mine. "A good pilot might be able to help you do that." It's not altogether a suggestion.

I see Tuvok nod approvingly out of the corner of my eye. "Particularly if he's accompanied by an experienced Tactical Officer," he adds.

"You shouldn't do this by yourself, Captain," Chakotay tells me, and as I look at him again I know that he's grateful to Tom and Tuvok for saying what he could not.

Always, always we make this dance between friends, lovers, and colleagues, and when our lives become dangerous, as they often do, it's difficult to separate the personas, difficult to know what to say, what to do.

I blink, and look, carefully, at each of the men in this room. They're all so dear to me, in different ways. Tuvok is my anchor. Tom, a younger brother who can make me smile when no-one else can. Harry's almost like a son. And Chakotay- I cannot express in words alone what Chakotay is to me.

I swallow, and make myself speak properly, with command, as a Captain should. "Well, then, gentlemen, I guess you're with me."

Tom and Tuvok follow me into the 'lift. My eyes remain fixed on Chakotay's until the doors close.

For a moment, I'm overwhelmed by sheer terror. I wonder if I'm mad, to think of such a thing. I look at my two companions, and am filled with desperate gratitude. In their own ways, they're both fond of Seven, but I know it's me they're doing this for.

I reach out and clasp a hand from each. They respond as I've come to expect- Tom, with a quirky grin, and Tuvok with a return squeeze so slight I could believe I've imagined it. Only I know I haven't.

We've gone head to head with the Borg before, I remind myself. More than once. We've won every time. Surely, surely, this time our luck will continue to hold.

* * *

"Were_ you angry?" Kathryn asked Chakotay softly._

_He shrugged slightly. "More surprised and annoyed, rather than angry. I know you, Kathryn. You were feeling angry at the prospect of losing Seven, and you wanted to do something that would help. I wasn't too impressed that you hadn't informed me of what was happening, or that you'd decided to risk yourself –yet again!- especially so soon after our last encounter with the Borg."_

"_You never said anything," Kathryn whispered._

"_What was the point? It was something I knew you needed to do, and there was no point in fighting it. I knew you'd need me afterwards."_

_Phoebe looked at him. "You knew that?"_

_Chakotay shrugged again. "You forget, Phoebe, this wasn't long after Kathryn's own assimilation." His voice was unwontedly harsh. "She was still recovering from that- mentally, if not physically." He glanced at the woman sitting motionless beside him, and gentled his tone. "I think, too, that her desire to go the cube herself was part of that recovery process. She wanted to take from the Borg, rather than losing to them yet again."_

"_Yes. Yes, that's it, although I don't think I rationalised it to myself in quite that way."_

_Phoebe watched her sister and Chakotay exchange a long look laden with words unsaid and an emotion that was almost palpable. She shifted. _

"_Anyone for more coffee?" she suggested as brightly as she could. _

_Kathryn nodded and pushed her cup. "Please. I'll need it." _

_Silently Phoebe refilled their cups before sitting once more, allowing Kathryn to continue with her tale. _


	5. Chapter 5

p a r t f o u r

I send Tuvok and Tom ahead. I know Tom will want to speak to B'Elanna, and Tuvok will unquestionably want to check that the Flyer is as prepared as it can possibly be for a potential confrontation with the Borg.

The Borg. I shiver. In my dreams I still feel the sharp pain of assimilation tubules piercing my neck, and the muted but still-seductive whisper of the Collective and the Borg Queen's voice. I've lost count of the number of times I've wakened, gasping and shaking, only to turn thankfully into the safety of Chakotay's arms.

At that memory, guilt courses through me. He was frantic the last time, but at least then we took all possible precautions and went in prepared for assimilation. This time, we haven't even been able to use the suppressant. If the Borg do return to the debris field as Tuvok suggested…

"Captain?" I turn at the sound of Icheb's voice. He's lost that Borg certainty, and his confidence has been further undermined by that incident with his parents… I pause and smile encouragingly at him.

"Have you talked to Seven?" he asks.

I glance down at my padd. "Just a few minutes ago." Poor Icheb, I think. He's devoted to Seven, he must be devastated.

The young man's next words make me stare at him in puzzlement, as he expresses his belief in my disapproval of- something. His disappointment is palpaple. I rub the bridge of my nose.

"Disapprove of what?"

He looks surprised. "My request."

I try not to frown. "Request?" This is the first I've heard of it.

Icheb's face falls. "I'm sure Seven will discuss it with you when she has the chance," he says, sounding hurt and offended as only a teenager can. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

I shake my head in an attempt to dispel the fogs of confusion and fear. Finally, realisation seeps in, and it dawns on me that Icheb still hasn't been told about Seven's illness. I say as much.

This time it's Icheb's turn to look puzzled. "Told me what?"

I explain Seven isn't well, that her cortical node is failing. I speak as gently as I can, but the wave of panic and despair that crosses the teenager's face is unmistakable. "She's going to die," he says with a finality that echoes Seven's own, in sickbay.

I put my hand on his shoulder and put as much confidence as I can muster into my voice. "Not if we find a new node," I tell him. "We're on our way to search a Borg debris field."

A light returns to his eyes. "I have experience in Borg technology. Let me come with you." It's a plea.

I shake my head. He's too young. It's too dangerous.

"I'm willing to take the risk," Icheb argues, just as Seven has. So many times

This time, I'm not giving in. "I'm not willing to let you," I tell him firmly, in the voice of command. He looks distraught, and I soften. I squeeze his shoulder again.

"I'll let you know how we did as soon as we're back," I say. I hope I sound reassuring. I force a smile. "Don't worry," I add.

It's a futile thing to say, and I know from the long look Icheb sends me that he knows it too. All the same, Borg or not, he's still young enough to be awed by authority and age, and he backs down. I watch him disappear down the corridor. Seven, I know, would never have acceded so meekly. At this point I'm glad she hasn't succeeded in influencing her protégé to _that _degree. This mission will be difficult enough. I don't want a teenager with us to complicate matters further.

By and large, our trip to the debris field is a quiet one. I'm torn between memories of my assimilation, my fear that it could happen again, and my determination to help Seven. I glance at Tuvok, and wonder if somewhere beneath that Vulcan composure he shares my feelings.

Tom, bless him, is concentrating on what he does best: piloting. Despite the danger, I know he's probably enjoying himself on some level. This shuttle- the _Delta Flyer_- was carefully and lovingly designed by himself, B'Elanna, and Harry a year ago. It's been patched up and rebuilt several times since then. I note with fleeting amusement that they've even replaced Tom's beloved twentieth century joystick.

"I have isolated a section that contains the bodies of approximately thirty seven drones."

I look up at Tuvok's words, my heart pounding.

Tom chips in, irreverent as always. "Thirty seven doesn't sound approximate to me, Tuvok." He does love to bait our Security chief, just as he loves torturing the doctor.

Tuvok gives Tom the Vulcan equivalent of a glower and explains. "These drones were killed in an explosion. There are only a few left intact."

I finish my own scans and interrupt. "Looks like there's still a breathable atmosphere inside. Any sign of any active Borg ships in the vicinity?"

Tom checks his own readings and whirls to face me. "Nothing on sensors, Captain."

I bite my lip. "That could change in a hurry. Run continuous scans."

"Yes, ma'am."

I shake my head slightly. Tom's the only one of the senior staff who regularly addresses me as "ma'am" but I don't mind it, despite my usual dislike for that mode of address. From him, it's a term of affection, rather than a response to authority. I wince at a memory in my ready room, nearly eighteen months ago. Most of the time…

I give Tom the usual instruction: if something happens, if the Borg appear, or if he's threatened in any way, he's to try to beam us out. If that doesn't work, he's to high-tail it back to _Voyager_ with orders to warp out of this sector. _Especially_ if it's the Borg. I won't have my entire crew threatened for my crusade.

Tom looks mutinous, but agrees. He knew, I think, that this order would come. He's been with me long enough to know how I operate by now. I squeeze his shoulder and join Tuvok on the _Flyer_'s transporter pad.

"All right, Tom. Energise."

He nods and the tingle begins, whisking us from the familiar confines of the shuttle, and placing us in the equally familiar, but immeasurably more sinister, environment of a Borg cube.

I take a moment to orientate myself, and then start scanning with my tricorder. Tuvok, after checking, and confirming with me, that we're the only life signs on the cube, does likewise. We've calibrated the tricorders to detect the readings that emit from cortical nodes, and it's not long before my tricorder beeps and blinks.

"Tuvok, here," I call as I note the pile of debris covering the humanoid figure on the floor. I can see his feet.

For a split, ridiculous moment, I find myself reminded of the early twentieth century film _The Wizard of Oz_. Tom insisted on showing it whilst Tuvok, B'Elanna and I were recovering after our last encounter with the Borg… I snap myself out of it.

"Help me get this off him," I order, continuing to scan. "There's no apparent damage to the cortical node."

Vulcans are stronger than humans- just as they have better eyesight and hearing, and it's not long before I'm kneeling beside the fallen drone. I need to steel myself to touch his waxen face, pale with more than death, but I manage. I follow the Doctor's instructions carefully. He warned me that the cortical node is a fragile piece of technology. It would be ironic to come this far, to safely retrieve the node, only to damage it in the process of returning…

"Captain, you've got company," Tom's electronic sounding voice says through my com badge. "There's a ship." He doesn't say what kind of ship. My hands shake a little as I place the node carefully into the provided box and rise, a little unsteadily, to my feet. I turn to meet Tuvok's eyes, and he nods slightly as he taps his badge.

"Two to beam out."

Nothing. I tap my own badge.

"_Delta Flyer_, respond!"

Tuvok speaks with as much urgency as I've ever heard from him. "Captain, three humanoids have just transported aboard this vessel."

I swallow and moisten suddenly dry lips. _Not again_… "Drones?"

Tuvok does not get a chance to respond. The humanoids appear in front of us, looking menacing- and surprisingly like our old enemies, the Kazon. I relax. At least they're not the Borg.

One of the aliens advances on me. I'm the smallest member of the party, and he's obviously decided I'm the most vulnerable, the easiest to overcome. He sticks his face into mine, so close I can see the flecks in his irises and smell his foul breath. "The only drones here are dead, and they belong to us. Who are you?"

I hold my ground and refuse to flinch away. I meet his eyes, willing myself to give him my most fearsome glare. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship _Voyager_," I respond, my tone as hostile as his. _So much for First Contact protocols._

The Kazon- like alien wags his head in a fashion that's almost funny. The look in his eyes, however, is not. "This is _my_ debris field, _Captain_!" he spits, making a mockery of my title. I step back. His saliva has sprayed over my face.

I do my best to sound conciliatory: "We weren't aware of that."

It doesn't work. He steps forward again. "What have you taken?"

"A cortical node. We need it to save one of my crew." I won't back down. They're not the Borg, these people. Resistance is unlikely to be futile, and we _need_ that node…

The other alien speaks up at that point. "Everything here belongs to _us_!"

This is ridiculous. We'll never get out of here at this rate. I realise I'm still holding the laser scalpel I used to extract the node from the dead drone. Moving quickly, I grab the alien in a neckhold- one he'd find difficult to break, despite our differences in size- and I hold the scalpel to his throat.

"Put down your weapons and I'll consider not activating this laser scalpel," I snarl.

It's probably not the best idea I have ever had. With a movement as quick as mine, the alien manages to break my hold. His eyes are wild with rage and I think, I_ know_, he's going to return the favour- and then some. Tuvok is struggling with the other alien, but he's distracted. He keeps looking at me, checking I'm safe. It's his undoing.

A shot is fired. Tuvok drops to the ground. I try to move towards him, breathing heavily. The aliens are standing together, advancing. They look more like Kazon than ever, wide, unpleasant smiles sending shivers of fear through me……

The tingle of a transporter beam has never been so welcome.

I exhale a long breath of relief as I rematerialise on the _Flyer_. Tom turns to look at me as I help Tuvok to a seat.

"Sorry about the delay," my pilot apologises. "They knocked our transporters offline."

I nod and continue checking Tuvok with my tricorder. Given the nature of this mission, it's a medical one and not one of our standard scientific appliances. My concentration is broken as the shuttle suddenly swerves, and only an outstretched hand prevents me from lurching onto Tuvok. I'm barely recovered when the _Flyer_ drops again. The aliens must have followed us. They're certainly determined- and greedy, I think resentfully. There's any number of dead drones on that cube, and we've only taken one node.

"Captain!" Tom's voice is peremptory. "I need you at tactical." I nod at him and move towards the station. He's still talking, firing out instructions. "When I bring us around, target their engine core. Got it?"

I shoot him a look of mingled amusement and irony. "Aye, _sir_." He grins at me, quickly, and turns his attention back to his flying, just as the alien ship appears ready to target us. We're in position. I fire, and check the sensors. My shot went home: their engines and weapons are offline.

Tom evidently agrees. "Nice shot," he says, his tone admiring. He checks his own readings, and flashes me one of his trademark smirks. "They're breaking pursuit."

I relax and turn to look at Tuvok, who is his usual stoic self. Somehow, he's even managed to repair the damage he suffered. Evidently he was shaken rather than hurt, and I sink into a chair, suddenly exhausted.

We sit in silence. A console beeps.

"We're being hailed."

I manage a grin. "_Voyager_?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, what are you waiting for, Captain Paris? Answer it!"

Tom's own grin reaches nearly ear to ear as he activates the link. "Captain Paris of the _USS Delta Flyer_ reporting, _Voyager_."

There's a pause. I'm smiling. Tom looks abnormally innocent.

"Tom?" Chakotay's voice says. He sounds cautious, as if wondering whether Tom's temporarily taken leave of his senses- or been commandeered by an alien. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Relax, Commander," I call. "We're all here. It was just a joke."

"Ah. I see. Mission accomplished, Captain?"

"Which one?" I ask facetiously. Relief sometimes makes me silly.

"I don't mind, I just want a report," Chakotay responds. I can hear the amusement in his voice.

I nod at Tom. "Mission accomplished successfully," he says.

"Thanks, Captain Paris." Chakotay's tone is dry. "When may we expect you back?"

"Approaching co-ordinates now, sir," Tom says, serious again. "Shuttle bay ready to receive us?"

We can hear Chakotay giving instructions to allow us access. "It is now. Glad the mission went off well. See you soon. Chakotay out."

"Okay, people, let's go home!"


	6. Chapter 6

p a r t f i v e

_Phoebe laughed for the first time since Kathryn had started talking. _

"_I think I'm going to like this_ _pilot of yours," she said appreciatively._

_Kathryn flashed a grin of her own. "I'm sure you will," she returned drily. "And just for the record, he's not mine. He belongs to an extremely hot-tempered half-Klingon."_

"_B'Elanna Torres?" Phoebe asked, recalling the name from the media reports, and Chakotay's remark earlier. _

"_The one and only!" Chakotay responded with a grin. "I never thought I'd say this," he began reflectively, "but Tom Paris is a good man. He's saved us all more than once."_

"_How?" Phoebe asked._

"_Take your pick," Kathryn answered. "He's superb pilot; he's also a highly competent medic. Not to mention our resident joker." She began to laugh, and her companions grinned in sympathy. _

"_Do you remember the Demon planet?" she said at last, her eyes still bright with fun._

_Chakotay leered at her. "You bet I do, Captain. I had high hopes for our doubles, you know."_

_Kathryn's cheeks went slightly pink, and she shook her head at him. "I wasn't talking about that. Remember Tom's suggestion for keeping Voyager going?"_

_Chakotay had to think for a moment, but then he grinned on his own account. "Something to do with bikes and pushing, wasn't it. And then there was the prank he and Harry played on Tuvok the day he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander."_

"_What did they do?" Phoebe asked, fascinated by the lighter side of their trip across the Delta Quadrant. _

"_Oh, they rigged the computer to respond to any and all queries from Tuvok with 'Live long and prosper,'" Kathryn explained, still smiling at the thought of her helmsman's many pranks. _

_Phoebe did laugh at that episode; she had met Tuvok on more than one occasion, and could imagine precisely how the Vulcan would respond to such an incident. "Now I _know_ I'd like him!" she exclaimed._

_Kathryn raised a brow at her. "Tuvok?" she deadpanned._

"_No! Tom Paris!"_

"_You have met him, actually," Kathryn said. "Dad used to work with Owen Paris. Don't you remember going to their house? You played with Moira and Kathleen, and I-"_

"_Talked boring Starfleet. Yes, I remember. You mean your Tom Paris was that annoying kid with blue eyes and fair hair?"_

"_Sounds about right," Chakotay quipped. Kathryn thumped him. _

_Phoebe grinned at the refreshing sight of her staid elder sister roughhousing, and produced a plate of Gretchen Janeway's famed caramel brownies- and more coffee._

_Kathryn eyed them eagerly. "Oh, good for you. I was thinking it was time for more."_

"_It's a bribe," Phoebe told her frankly. "I want you to carry on with your story."_

"_Wouldn't you rather hear about the pranks of the three musketeers?" Kathryn protested._

"_Also known as Tom, Harry, and B'Elanna," Chakotay supplemented for the younger Janeway's benefit. _

"_No," Phoebe said firmly. "I want to hear about you, and Seven, and how my sister was convinced that it's OK to be human…"_

_Kathryn nodded in reluctant acceptance of her sibling's demand, and began once more._

I watch appreciatively as we approach my ship. It's always a treat to see her smooth curves and graceful lines from this perspective. Given everything we've been through, she's in remarkably good shape. Having said that, I'm startled at the proliferation of Borg-green lights on the hull. I know that B'Elanna and Seven have made a number of Borg-inspired adaptations to the ship, but until now I'd never realised how visible they are.

My reverie is broken by the slight bump as the _Flyer_ lands in the shuttle bay. A moment later and post-flight procedures are complete. I send a grateful smile to my companions, and tap my badge. "Janeway to the Doctor."

"Yes, Captain."

"We're back _and_ we have the node!"

"We're glad to hear it," the Doctor says, his slightly acerbic tone undiluted by the communicator channel. "Seven's with me now, Captain."

"Good. How are you doing, Seven?"

"I am as well as can be expected, Captain. When do you wish to begin?" I know she's addressing the Doctor rather than me, so I wait for his response.

"Not yet- not for real, at least. Captain, could you and Mr Paris meet me in the holodeck? We need to run simulations."

"Of course. We'll be there. Janeway out."

I turn to Tom and Tuvok. "Tom, you heard him. Tuvok, if you're recovered, go to the Bridge and see what's happening there. I'm sure Commander Chakotay will be glad to see you." I try not to let regret tinge my voice; I'd dearly love to see Chakotay before going to the holodeck, but duty must come first.

"Yes, Captain." Tuvok vanishes, and Tom and I make our way to join the Doctor.

"She's going into anaphylactic shock!"

My heart sinks at Tom's words. They've become horribly familiar over the past hours. I know what's going to happen next..

"Her implants aren't adapting," the Doctor says for the thirteenth time. "They're rejecting the new node."

"It's losing synaptic cohesion!" Tom barks, his tone urgent.

"Apply a twenty millijoule neurostatic pulse on my mark. Now."

I obey the Doctor's order. My answer is the same as before: "No effect."

"Again!"

"Increase the pulse. Thirty millijoules." I hit the button and watch in despair as Tom and the Doctor try to revive 'Seven.' Once again, they fail. My throat closes over, and I need to look down to blink away the tears of disappointment and exhaustion.

"Computer, end simulation," the Doctor says, sounding as tired as I feel.

I grit my teeth. I'm not stopping now. "Why did you stop?" I demand. I cringe; I sound slightly hysterical.

"It wasn't working," the Doctor tells me with dejected patience.

"Run it again!" I know, and do not care, that my desperation is plain in my voice.

Tom and the Doctor exchange a look before Tom turns to me. "Captain, this was our twelfth simulation. Something tells me thirteen won't be our lucky number."

"The salvaged node has been inactive too long," the Doctor adds gently.

I stare at them both, their faces as drawn as mine must be. _Don't give up_. I swallow and glare at them.

"Then we'll find one that hasn't!"


	7. Chapter 7

p a r t s i x

_Kathryn paused and exhaled. The next memories were difficult to recall, in so many ways._

"_Do you want to stop?" Phoebe asked gently._

"_No. Just- Phoebe, what do you know about the _Equinox_ incident?"_

_Phoebe looked surprised. "Nothing much beyond what everyone knows. Why?"_

_Kathryn bit her lip. "I can't tell you much; it's classified. All I can say is that I did something I'm deeply ashamed of." She took another breath, a shuddering one this time. "You may have heard that Captain Ransom abandoned his principles in his desire to get his crew home as quickly as possible."_

_Phoebe nodded, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Yes, of course, everyone knows that. Just like everyone knows you managed to get your crew home with principles intact!" Her voice positively clanged. _

_Kathryn winced. "I tried. I didn't always succeed," she said, her voice heavy with regret and guilt. _

"_Kathryn-" Chakotay began. _

_She shook her head at him. "No, Chakotay. Don't say it." She managed to draw forth a smile from somewhere. "We both know I nearly became what I derided in Ransom: inhuman." Her honesty was painful. "And then I crippled myself over it, for so long. If it hadn't been for you…" Her fingers tightened convulsively around Chakotay's. _

"_You've managed to move past that, Kathryn," he reminded her. "Remember? That's the point of this story."_

_She smiled again, and this time the smile reached her eyes. "Yes." She turned back to Phoebe, settled herself comfortably against Chakotay, and continued..._

I turn on my heel and leave the holodeck, anger and frustration alone fuelling me.

The Doctor follows.

"No matter how many debris fields we sift through, a node from a dead drone isn't going to work!"

I turn on him. "Who said anything about a _dead_ drone?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I carry on, ignoring the shock in his voice. "We've infiltrated Borg vessels before. If _that's_ what it takes to save Seven we'll do it again." My throat is closing over, and I struggle to hold my voice steady.

"Are you suggesting ending one life to save another?" He sounds horrified. He has, after all, been programmed to 'first, do no harm.'

_But I haven't_, and his words have barely registered. I'm tell him I'm not giving up on Seven. He grabs my shoulder, and whirls me 'round to face him at such speed that I'm certain he's wrenched one of my back muscles. I try not to wince and, fortunately, my anger at his action helps.

My words die on my lips as I face him, look at him properly. He's 'only' a hologram, but his eyes are filled with real anguish and fury, and I suddenly remember that he's been as much a mentor to Seven as I have. I listen.

"Neither am I! I'll do everything in my power to help her, but we both have to face the possibility that it may not be enough." The words, begun in anger, end softly, and his fierce grip on my arm eases.

I nod silently. The implications of our exchange are starting to sink in. The Doctor looks at me carefully.

"I think we've done all we can for one day, don't you?"

Wearily, I agree.

He smiles, rather tentatively, and pats my shoulder. "You go back to your quarters and rest, Captain. I'll tell Seven."

"No. No, I'm coming with you." I look him straight in the eye again. "I need to be there when you tell her."

"Captain-"

"Doctor, I'm coming!"

He moves his head in resigned acknowledgement, and the rest of our journey to sickbay is a silent one.

I hear the soft sounds of conversation as the sickbay doors whish open, but a tense silence falls at once. Seven and Neelix turn to face us. Hope is plainly obvious on Neelix's face; Seven's emotion are more subtle.

I speak with all the gentleness I can summon. "According to the simulations, the salvaged node isn't going to work. I'm sorry."

The hope, such as it was, dies out of Seven's eyes. I glance at the Doctor, and, bless him, he tries to soften the news.

"I'm still researching alternative treatments, and Harry and B'Elanna are going to try to repair the faulty node using components from your alcove." He sounds optimistic. Too optimistic. I look at Seven and know from the new bleakness in her eyes that she is aware of it too.

She turns away from us. "They'll fail!"

The Doctor follows her, still talking. "We're not giving up hope. Neither should you."

Seven ignores him. She turns towards me once again. "With your permission, I'd like to return to my duties." Her voice is steady, and I find myself envying her control even while I deplore it. The Doctor protests at the suggestion, and Seven looks straight at me.

"Captain?" It's a plea.

I find it difficult to meet her eyes. In matters of health, I'm not the supreme authority, but for Seven, I've always been the ultimate arbitrator. It's not so surprising that she'd turn to me now. It hurts to deny her her request to return to the work she loves, but the hard fact is that she must now be under the Doctor's jurisdiction rather than mine.

I shake my head slightly, and speak softly. "I'm afraid I have to defer to the Doctor." I'm aware of the glimmer of betrayal in her eyes as she allows the Doctor to lead her to the biobed to continue their conversation. Quietly, I slip away. There's now only one place I want to be.

When I reach the haven of my quarters I move towards the sofa like an automaton and sink down. I'm haunted by the memory of that exchange with the Doctor. _Who said anything about a _dead_ drone? ….Are you suggesting ending one life to save another?_

For the past year, these rooms have been a sanctuary of warmth, comfort, and security, thanks to the calming scent of incense and the glowing tones of Chakotay's native-work blankets and artefacts. Even our precious leather covered books contribute to the atmosphere; before, I kept them tidily in my bedroom. Now they are proudly displayed in the bookcase that Chakotay fashioned from wood taken from the planet we called New Earth. He never worked it until six months ago, when we agreed to share our quarters and our lives publicly…

At this moment these things give me small comfort. I am too exhausted, too heartsick, too shamed, to find consolation in them. I place my face in my hands and try to shut out the recollection of words spoken a year ago: _This is about right and wrong_…_I won't let you cross that line again, Captain…_ and shudder at the realisation that I _have_ crossed it again, in spirit if not in deed. I told Noah Lessing in that cargo bay that we all make our own hell. I made mine that day, and the flames still consume me.

Large, warm hands place themselves on my shoulders.

"Kathryn?"

I shiver. I want to draw away from the undeserved comfort of those hands and the solid frame beside me, but to do so would hurt Chakotay needlessly. I have already caused him too much pain.

"Kathryn?" he says again. I can hear the concern in his soft voice.

"I've done it again," I whisper. "I crossed the line."

The hands on my shoulder tighten, and I am aware that Chakotay's breath has stilled.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

I keep my hands over my face. I cannot bear to look at him as I speak. "The simulations failed. We-we lost her, every time. The Doctor says that for the surgery to work we need a node from a live drone, not a dead one." I pause to steady my voice. "I-I was angry. I said that if that's what'd take to save Seven, then I'd get a node from a live drone. He- he was furious, and rightly so." I am silent for an endlessly long moment. I tell my conclusion in a near whisper: "Basically, I suggested murder."

"You admit that? You're admitting that, yourself?"

I nod. B'Elanna once described his voice as 'damnably soft', when she was talking about her role in programming the missile _Dreadnought_. She said the tone of his voice alone made her feel so ashamed, so guilty. I know what she meant.

"Yes," I say.

I expect the hands to drop away from my shoulders. I expect the comforting presence next to me to move. I expect to look up and confront the disappointed face of my First Officer.

I am surprised to realise that he has not moved, that his hands are still on me, that they are, in fact, moving across my shoulders in the preliminary stages of a massage. Those sinfully good massages….

Confused, I drop my hands and force myself to look up at him.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Nothing to say," he responds simply. "You know where you went wrong. You realised- with a little help- that you were beginning to obsess, and that that obsession was bringing you dangerously close to crossing the invisible line once again-"

"I _did_ cross it!"

He smiles at me. "No, Kathryn, you didn't. You can't punish yourself for spiritual as well as actual transgressions. We're not on that planet where B'Elanna was almost brain-wiped for thinking angry thoughts. The fact is, you were angry, exhausted- and grieving. We've only recently begun thinking that Borg drones are worth any consideration. Your response was understandable."

"Really?" I am desperate to believe him, and emotionally undone by his understanding.

He draws me onto his lap. He's big enough for me to sit there comfortably. I feel his arms encircle me, and after a moment, I let my head drop to his shoulder. _I am so tired…_

"Can anything else be done for Seven?" he asks practically.

I swallow and shake my head. Against my will, several tears leak out. I can feel their dampness against my cheek.

"The Doctor loves her too. He won't give up so easily."

I force agreement from a throat stiff from more tears, the ones I refuse to cry.

"The rest of the crew will help," Chakotay assures me.

"Will they?" I murmur.

I've got ears. I've heard the rumours, the complaints that I've showered Seven with favouritism. Some even believe I'm in love with her, of all things. They can't see past her arrogance or her formidable appearance to the child beneath.

"I promise, Kathryn. If anything can be done to save her, we'll find it. Hell, I don't want to lose her either." I feel his cheeks curl in a smile. "These past couple of years have transformed her. She's now pretty much a human with Borg implants instead of a Borg in human form."

I look up at him. "Mean that?"

He kisses my forehead. "Sure do. You did a good job there, Kathryn."

"It wasn't all me," I murmur. "Lately she's been spending more time with the Doctor." I shut my eyes and remember his words- _I'll do everything in my power to help her, but we both have to face the possibility that it may not be enough_.

"It may not be enough," I mumble.

"Kathryn?"

"The Doctor says he'll do what he can, but without a new node, it may not be enough."

Chakotay's arms tighten around me again, and I feel his lips brush my forehead a second time. "We'll face that bridge if we come to it, but for what it's worth, I don't believe we'll be losing Seven of Nine just yet."

"Hmmm."

"Come on, Kathryn. Bed!"


	8. Chapter 8

p a r t s e v e n

Two days later and life on the Federation starship _Voyager_ is unwontedly quiet. We're in a relatively empty part of space at the moment, and news of Seven's prognosis has spread throughout the crew. It's a small ship, after all, and whilst Seven's proven loyalty and dedication to this ship and her crew has earned her their respect, if not their affection.

Even Crewman Tal, who has suffered from the rough side of Seven's tongue more than once, seems to be truly sorry. Then again, Tal Celes is a sweet natured girl, and all she needed was a little self-confidence.

The senior staff is obviously more deeply affected. Tom and the Doctor, as medics, are grave. Harry looks desolate. The poor boy has never completely gotten over his crush on Seven. Neelix's exuberance is muted. Chakotay is watchful. Tuvok- I'm not certain how Tuvok perceives what's happening, but he probably believes that it would be illogical to deny the probable inevitability of Seven's fate.

Personally, I'm glad of the quiet. I have not been sleeping well. I've had deeply unpleasant dreams where the memory of the Doctor's words two nights ago mingle with Chakotay's from the time of the _Equinox_ crisis.

I dream of that scene with Noah Lessing, only it's not Noah I see, but Seven, B'Elanna, Tuvok- even, once, myself- and they're drones. I'm the Borg Queen in a Starfleet captain's uniform, killing them in order to find a working cortical node…. I wake up trembling and covered in sweat, too afraid to seek sleep again.

It's taking its toll, and I know that before long, my makeup will no longer disguise the weariness in my eyes. I'm fortunate Tom and the Doctor are otherwise engaged with Seven at the moment, and Chakotay knows better than to force the issue right now. I do not respond well to inactivity.

In the meantime I'm plodding on with reviewing data on Borg technology and my usual reports. It's barely ten in the morning and I'm already on my fifth cup of coffee. The intense aroma helps me to stay awake and motivated.

My door chimes, and I put the report down, glad of a distraction.

"Enter."

My chief engineer appears. She glances sharply at me and hands me her report. I am mildly startled. B'Elanna usually submits her reports directly to Chakotay, and on the rare occasions they're handed straight to me, it's invariably by one of her gophers. I accept it with murmured thanks.

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, reminding me suddenly of the raw, volatile, heartbreakingly insecure girl she was six years ago. It's only at moments like this that I appreciate how much my 'eldest daughter' has grown since coming aboard. I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Was there something else, Lieutenant?"

She shifts again and shoots me an intensely appraising glance from dark eyes. "Do you have a moment, Captain?"

I sigh and stretch a little. "Right now? Unquestionably." I look at the half-empty cup next to me and grimace slightly. "Coffee?"

B'Elanna nods and follows me to the sofa. I hand her the freshly replicated cup of her favourite blend, and inhale the refreshed scent of my own. "What can I do for you, B'Elanna?"

"Seven came to talk to me yesterday afternoon," she says abruptly.

I pause mid-sip and stare at her. From the beginning, the relationship between my 'daughters' has been rocky. They're both brilliant, both very vulnerable, and more alike than either would care to admit. Temperamentally, they're like fire and ice, and we've had more than one altercation. Since Unimatrix Zero, though, I've noticed a thawing.

"What did she have to say?"

B'Elanna cradles the mug in her hands, as if glad of the warmth. "She wanted to talk about the Klingon afterlife."

I realise I'm still staring. B'Elanna looks up at me and smiles that rueful grin I've come to love.

"I-I think she wanted to be reassured that she won't be forgotten." She shrugs a little. "I don't know why she came to me, Captain. We're not exactly the best of friends."

I smile rather sadly. "You may not think so, B'Elanna, but the truth is you're probably the closest thing Seven has to a female friend her own age. She has enormous respect for your abilities, even though it may not always seem that way. On second thoughts, I'm not surprised she went to you."

B'Elanna blinks at me, her eyes wide with astonishment. "I never thought of it that way," she admits.

"What did you tell her?"

That shrug again. "The truth. That she's made an impact on every member of this crew, and that'll be her legacy. Then the Doctor came in and we had to stop. She wanted to be useful, so I persuaded the Doc to let her stay in Engineering." She glances at me and continues, rather defensively. "I wasn't just saying that, Captain. I really did want her help."

I smile softly and pat her arm. "I'm sure you did, 'Lanna. Thank you. I know that Seven hates the thought of being idle. I'm afraid she still sees relaxation as being 'irrelevant'."

B'Elanna nods in emphatic agreement and I cannot help being secretly amused. Like Seven, B'Elanna and I are also notorious for preferring work to leisure. It's a bond we share… My smile fades as I remember an image from my dream.

"Captain?"

I give myself a mental shake. "It's nothing, B'Elanna. I was just thinking. How do you feel about the conversation?"

Her eyes drop from mine. "I don't know. If it had to happen, I'm glad it happened now, and not a year ago. I don't think I could have been particularly reassuring before my experience on the Barge of the Dead."

There's a flash of brown, and I squeeze her arm again. B'Elanna and I became close in the early years of our journey, but that rather went by the wayside when she became involved with Tom. By then, of course, Seven had come aboard and I was engaged in helping her regain her humanity.

More recently we've been able to regain that old closeness, and I'm glad of it. I told B'Elanna that she's probably the closest thing to a female friend that Seven has, and I realise that the same is true for me, regardless of the differences in rank and age. Seven is still too socially and emotionally immature to be a true friend.

I find myself wondering if B'Elanna resented our apparent estrangement, and if that resentment coloured her initial reactions to Seven. I'd never thought of it before, but the Barge of the Dead episode made _me_ realise that B'Elanna sees me as a mother figure, despite the fact that- or possibly because- her relationship with her own mother was so conflicted. Perhaps she's trying to right old wrongs, and as for me…. I suppose I'm trying to be the 'good mother' I will probably never be in reality.

"Does Seven believe in an afterlife?" I ask, genuinely curious.

Somehow the topic had never occurred to me, in all the myriad discussions I've had with Seven of Nine. If asked, I'd have assumed that she would categorise life after death as irrelevant. I'm humbled to realise that I was wrong.

B'Elanna chews her lip. "I don't know if she believes in an afterlife as a human."

I wrinkle my brow at her in confusion, and she explains.

"She says that all her memories and life experiences until her liberation from the Borg will remain within the Collective's memory, even after her death."

I stare at my young chief engineer. I'm starting to understand. "But not her experiences since becoming human again."

B'Elanna gives another of her emphatic gestures. "Exactly. That really bothers her, Captain. She's afraid that when she dies, the part of her life that's most meaningful will die with her."

I set my jaw. "Well, if I have anything to do with it, that's not something Seven will have to worry about for some time."

"Captain-"

"I'll have to make time to talk with her about this," I say, deliberating ignoring the looks B'Elanna is shooting in my direction. "She didn't mention any of this to me last night- she just wanted me to promise that I'd make sure Icheb gets the opportunity to complete the Academy entrance papers."

B'Elanna nods.

I finish my drink and smile as brightly as I can manage. "Anything more I can do for you?"

B'Elanna takes the hint. "No, Captain."

I follow her to the lower level and call her just before the sensors detect her presence and open the ready room doors. She turns- reluctantly, I think.

"'Lanna? Thanks for telling me this. Good work."

She nods in silent acceptance of the compliment and leaves.

I try to concentrate on my reports.

"_I'd never have thought of you as the maternal type," Phoebe commented with some amusement. "Mark wanted you to settle down and do the whole marriage and kids thing, and you never seemed particularly interested. He complained you wouldn't even finalise a date for the wedding!"_

_Kathryn grinned ruefully. "I know. I loved Mark, really I did, but… I wanted a career too. I hadn't bargained on getting flung into the Delta Quadrant, remember, and I thought I had plenty of time." She shrugged. "As it turned out, I was Captain of a young crew, some of whom were particularly vulnerable, and we were far from home. It was inevitable that Chakotay and I would take on a more parental role. We both had protégées. B'Elanna was one of them."_

"_You did more for her than I ever could," Chakotay remarked. "As you know, I'm not much of a scientist or engineer- I know only what Starfleet expects all command track officers to know. She needed what you could give, Kathryn- the support and advice of an older woman, and the understanding and inspiration of a fellow scientist. I know we've credited Tom for a lot of the changes we've seen in B'Elanna over the years, but don't discount your own contribution."_

"_I didn't fully realise that until the Barge of the Dead incident," Kathryn admitted. "I always thought of B'Elanna as your 'personal reclamation project' – Tom, and later Seven, were mine."_

_Chakotay grinned. "And Harry worshipped the ground you walked on. Oh admit it, Kathryn- you know it's true. Much as I hate to say it, Q was absolutely right. You were a mummy to the crew." He turned to Phoebe. "Did she tell you that the crew called her 'Mama Kate' behind her back?"_

_Phoebe's eyes turned into blue saucers. "She did not." She began to laugh. "Really? I can't imagine that!"_

_Kathryn shot Chakotay a murderous look, getting only a calm, if rather smug, smile in return. "And now you'll never let me forget it," she muttered sotte voce. _

"_Don't forget all the babysitting either," her former First Officer teased. "Let's see- there was Naomi, of course, and then the Borg children, not to mention your illustrious godson-"_

"_He was more trouble than the rest of them put together!" Kathryn snorted. _

"_Ah, but he won you over in the end. What woman could resist a room full of red roses?"_

"Red roses_? What's this?"_

"_It was a thankyou gift," Kathryn said dismissively. "I'll tell you about it another time. Now, do you want to hear the rest of this or not?"_


	9. Chapter 9

p a r t e i g h t

It's nearly the end of alpha shift and I'm on the Bridge. If I'd hoped for a distraction, I was mistaken. Despite the presence of Tuvok, Tom and Harry, the shift has been quiet. When Tom's badge chirps, we all look at him.

"Sickbay to Paris."

"Yes, Doc?"

"Can you get down here? I need your help with some simulations."

Tom raises his eyebrows at me, and I nod.

"On my way, Doc!" He's on the turbolift as he finishes the conversation.

A deep sigh wafts its way to me from Harry's direction, and I turn to him.

"Ensign?"

"I was just thinking about Seven," he says wistfully.

"Have you spoken to her?"

Harry shifts uncomfortably. Despite six years in the Delta Quadrant, he retains an air of innocence. He's lost friends before, to sudden death, but I know he's never had to watch a lingering demise.

"Harry?" I prompt.

"Not really." He looks at his console, and his hands move over the board, but I know he's not focused on it. "I don't know what to say to her, Captain." He looks at me, his eyes wide and anxious. "I don't want to say anything to make it harder for her."

"That is unlikely, Ensign," Tuvok puts in from his customary spot. "If I may say so, Seven of Nine, unlike other members of this crew, has accepted her fate. I do not believe that you could say anything to 'make it harder.'"

I glance at him sharply. I know that was aimed at me as much as Harry. "That may be so, Commander, but it doesn't invalidate Harry's concerns." My voice softens as I turn back to my young Ops officer. "Harry, talk to her. No matter what happens, it can only help both of you. I know she considers you a friend. Don't draw away from her now."

Harry's cheeks flush a little, but he nods. "Yes, ma'am."

I flash a smile at him. It fades quickly as I think of Tuvok's words, and B'Elanna's. Has Seven really accepted her death as inevitable? I decide to go and find out. I rise, and turn to my Chief of Security.

"I'm going to Astrometrics. You have the Bridge."

The sound of his murmured acquiescence follows me into the 'lift.

I hesitate for a moment before I permit the sensors to register my presence and trip the door's opening mechanism. Seven is standing at her customary position, as immaculate and trim as always, and despite everything, I feel a pang of envy. I needed more makeup than usual this morning.

I look at the viewscreen and am surprised to be confronted with a familiar image: the awe-inspiring panorama of the Grand Canyon. I lean against the bulkhead and eye my protégé. It is unlike her to show such interest in Earth, and the Alpha Quadrant. Until now, she has in fact avoided it. I stiffen my spine as the logical explanation for her new-found curiosity occurs to me. I say something to distract myself from that train of thought.

"Earth's biggest ditch. That's what my father used to call it. We hiked the north rim when I was nine."

Seven glances at me, the first time she's acknowledged my presence. "It's an impressive geological formation."

I smile, wistfulness and amusement combined. "Too dusty," I qualify. "I've always preferred farm country, myself."

Seven's fingers move with lightning speed across her console, and another image, more familiar than the last, appears. I blink at the sight of my hometown, and only distantly register than Seven has identified it, and it's connection to me, accurately. I find I'm touched by that.

"What do you think?" I ask her.

"It appears to be a pleasant environment," she says, sounding almost surprised. I smile at her once more.

"When we get to Earth I'll take you there," I promise. It's a vow I have every intention of keeping.

Seven's eyes drop from mine and her posture stiffens again. "It's more likely this crew will reach Earth without me," she points out. I'm chilled by the impassivity of her tone.

"You don't know that," I insist.

Seven's eyebrow goes up in a manner reminiscent of Tuvok's. "You refuse to acknowledge the severity of my condition, just as I did at first."

I wince. Like Tuvok, she is being painfully logical. Too logical. "Are you giving up?" I demand, my tone harder than I intended.

Her shoulders move in her version of a shrug. "I'm merely accepting reality."

I sink down on the lower step and look up at my protégée. "If I'd accepted reality six years ago I'd have settled on the first M class planet we came across," I tell her firmly.

She opens her mouth to respond and I forestall her by turning and indicating the corn field on the viewscreen. "Instead, I'm thirty thousand light years closer to Bloomington, Indiana."

She looks at me in silence, her expression tighter than usual. I force myself to remain still, to not betray my discomfort. It's a been a while since Seven looked at me in precisely that manner.

I don't have long to wait to discover the reason. She pushes a button on her console, and begins to talk. Relentlessly.

"Minus several members of your crew. Ensign Marie Kaplan. Ensign Lindsay Ballard. Crewman Timothy Lang."

An image appears on the screen as she cites each name. The images keep coming; she does not even need to say the names. I know them all by heart.

I swallow the lump in my throat and speak with some difficulty. "Is there a _point_ to this?"

"Every person on this list died under your command. You accepted their deaths, but I don't believe you'll accept _mine_."

I feel anger. I know I've devoted a lot of time, attention, and yes, love, to Seven, but she's implying that the deaths of other crew members mean little to me.

I pull myself up from my awkward position on the step with a muffled grunt. "That's presumptuous," I tell her, glaring.

Seven's eyes meet mine, as they always have, with the frankness of a child.

"I'm not being egotistical," she says, a statement that I'm certain would have B'Elanna snorting with disbelief.

Judged on her own terms, however, the assessment is accurate. Seven takes pride in her abilities, but she knows that they're the result of the experiences and deaths of millions. As a Borg, she had no sense of self. The result now is an odd mixture of arrogance and humility.

I raise a brow at her again, prompting her to continue.

She takes a deep breath. "On the contrary, I'm trying to make a point."

I lean on her console and look up at her, deliberately moving slowly. Chakotay would say I'm behaving like a cat preparing to pounce, and right now he'd be correct.

"Which is?" I demand, still rankled by Seven's earlier statement.

"All of these crew members came to Voyager with unique personalities." She pauses and looks directly at me once again. "_I've_ required your constant assistance to develop my individuality."

I wonder if there's a trace of resentment there. I nod at her. "And you've come a long way." I smile at her; a genuinely proud smile.

Her shoulders are tense. "But not far enough." She drops her eyes again, and speaks very softly. "I've disappointed you. You feel your task is incomplete. That's why my death will be difficult for you to accept."

My smile fades and I blink at sudden tears. "Is that what you think?" I ask, in a voice as soft as hers. "That you haven't lived up to my _expectations_?"

Seven looks almost surprised, and my heart aches for her. She always seems so self-sufficient; even I sometimes forget her desperate insecurity.

"Clearly I haven't," she says, as though it's self evident. Then she hesitates before going on. "I want you to know that the failure has been _mine_, not yours."

I'm astonished. Only once before has Seven spoken to me in such a deeply personal fashion, and that was two years ago- the morning in the mess hall when she thanked me for the first time. I'm even more touched now than I was then. I want to cry. I want to hold her close and tell her how wonderful she really is.

"You haven't failed, Seven." I know my emotion shows in my voice, but as I look straight into my protegee's blue eyes, I know that for once she welcomes that emotion, and I make an effort to put my pride into words.

"You've _exceeded_ my expectations. You've become an individual, an extraordinary individual." I need to pause to steady my voice. "If I'm having trouble accepting your condition it's only because I don't want to lose a friend."

Seven's eyes are fixed on me. She blinks, rapidly. In anyone else, I'd have suspected she was trying not to cry, but I know that a side effect of her cortical node's breakdown is tears. Even so, it does appear that emotion does play a role in these episodes; after all, the first such occurrence happened immediately after the children's departure from Voyager. That's too much of a coincidence….

My musings are interrupted by the sound of the Doctor's voice.

"Doctor to the Captain. I need to see you and Seven right away."

Seven and I exchange a glance.

"Very well, Doctor. We're on our way to sickbay now."

"Make that the briefing room, Captain."

Now we're puzzled. This is certainly unorthodox.

"The _briefing_ room, Doctor?"

"Yes. Like I say, I have news. Sickbay out."

My eyebrows rise, but I indicate to Seven that we should follow the directive. I have to confess I'm intrigued by what the Doctor might have to say.


	10. Chapter 10

p a r t n i n e

By the time Seven and I reach the briefing room, hope is beginning to burgeon within me. I glance at Seven, and wonder if she shares my feelings, but it's hard to tell.

We're greeted by the Doctor and- to my surprise, and Seven's- Icheb. They are both extremely excited, and talk so quickly that it takes some time before I understand precisely what they're proposing. Needless to add, Seven's rate of comprehension is faster than mine, and my heart sinks as my protégée's jaw sets and takes an angle I know well.

In a nutshell, Icheb and the Doctor have been able to determine a way of getting Seven what she needs to survive: namely, a functioning cortical node from a live drone. Their solution is beautifully simple- use Icheb's. Apparently, the idea came from our young Brunali, who believes that his body can be forced to adapt to the node's absence with the aid of the genetic resequencing technique Icheb learnt during his short stay on the Brunali homeworld.

The idea leaves me breathless. "It would be a complicated procedure," I point out unnecessarily.

"No doubt," the Doctor agrees, but his enthusiasm remains undimmed.

I'm encouraged. "But you believe it'll work?"

The Doctor's eyes flick to Seven, and then back to me. Icheb, too, is eyeing Seven in a manner that's best described as wary, and I feel my stomach twist with tension.

The Doctor sighs. "There are significant risks involved to Seven and Icheb," he begins reluctantly. "But if you're asking me if it's _possible-_ I'd have to say yes." He ends on a very firm note.

I bite my lip and glance at Seven and Icheb. Seven's eyes are glittering dangerously, but Icheb's are also bright- with determination. I rub the bridge of my nose. I'm a starship captain, not a mother. I don't think I'm naturally equipped to deal with these situations. I take a deep breath.

"What sort of precautions-"

Seven interrupts me ruthlessly. "No matter how many precautions you take, it's not worth the risk to Icheb!"

I glance at her sympathetically. I understand where she's coming from. Icheb, however, does not.

"Seven, this could work," Icheb implores. His eyes are fixed on her face, begging, pleading.

As he pointed out, he's considerably younger than Seven, and was assimilated much more recently. In addition, like the rest of our younger Borg refugees, his assimilation was interrupted by the failure of the maturation chambers in their cube, and, as a result, his physiognomy is significantly less reliant on his implants than is the case with Seven. If the situation were reversed, it would be hopeless, but as things are…

"I'm not willing to extend my life at the cost of yours!" Seven snaps.

Icheb glowers back at her. "You haven't reviewed all the data!" He sounds aggrieved, frustrated, and hurt.

Seven seems to divine his emotions, and she softens. "As long as there's _any _chance you won't survive, the data is irrelevant." She pauses for a moment, and I see her swallow.

She turns to the Doctor, and speaks quietly. "I'd like to return to sickbay now."

The Doctor looks startled, as well he might. Seven has been a most unwilling patient, but he accepts her decision follows her from the room.

I'm left alone with Icheb. Now those pleading eyes are fixed on me.

"You're the Captain. You could _order_ her to do it."

I bite my lip again, so hard I'm surprised I haven't broken the skin. I understand Seven's perspective perfectly, but I also empathise with Icheb's. It's not so very long since the young man was betrayed by his own parents in the most terrible way. He's had to accept their loss, and now he's being confronted with the possible loss of Seven, who has been consistently protective and supportive of him from the time he came on board.

And then there's my own feelings. The experience of helping Seven reclaim her humanity has resembled that of a parent watching her child grow and mature. Despite my response to Seven's 'presumption' earlier, her loss- to me, personally, as well as the ship- would be incalculable.

Furthermore, there's the fact that, initially, I was the one to force that humanity on Seven by severing her connection to the Collective. I know that she doesn't regret it- now- but it was a long, hard road for her. It's only since my own assimilation and recovery that I've been able to truly appreciate what she's gone through. I forced her to live once before on my terms. I won't do it a second time, thereby implying that she's correct in believing that I'm disappointed in her and what she's achieved…

Even so, saying what I must is one of the hardest things I've ever done, and I'm amazed that I manage to remain so calm, so captain-like.

"I have to respect her wishes," I tell Icheb, knowing he's too young to read the emotion behind my flat tones.

"Even if it kills her?" he fires back with the brutal honesty of the young.

I close my eyes, and then shoot him my best Captain's glare. "I want to help her _just_ as much as you do!"

His young face looks drawn with disappointment. "If that were true you wouldn't let her die!"

I've commented before that in some ways, Icheb's emotional maturity is greater than Seven's, but right now, he's simply a child who believes he has been betrayed by an authority/parental figure- yet again. His eyes are dark and bleak as he rushes from the room and leaves me standing alone.

I sink into a chair and cover my face with my hands.

"Captain?"

Wearily, I look up. Chakotay stands before me, hands behind his back. His look is penetrating.

"What did the Doctor say?" he prompts.

I shrug, feeling suddenly helpless and powerless. Those emotions sit uneasily on me. "There's a chance for Seven, but it involves using Icheb's cortical node to replace hers."

Chakotay's brows shoot up. "Won't that cause problems for him?"

I shake my head and explain what the Doctor and Icheb told Seven and I. "But there's no point in discussing it. Seven refuses to countenance the idea." I rub the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache threaten.

Chakotay leans against the briefing table and looks down on me. "You could order her to have the treatment," he suggests evenly.

It catches me on the raw. "Like I did with B'Elanna, you mean! It's not the same, Chakotay!"

"No?"

"No! She was attacked by an alien life-form. Besides, she's a member of the crew. Strictly speaking, Seven's a civilian. I haven't got that power over her."

"Strictly speaking, B'Elanna's a civilian too," Chakotay points out with maddening accuracy.

I throw my hands into the air and rise, standing nose to nose with him. "I'm not going to argue about this with you now, Chakotay!" I turn away, looking out at the eternal blackness beyond.

"I'm not trying to argue," Chakotay says very softly. "You were right to choose as you did for B'Elanna." He hesitates, then: "I thought it was very brave of you. You must have known how she would feel, and did feel, and – well, for what it's worth, you did the right thing. It was one way of ensuring that those people did not die in vain."

His words are comforting, and I feel some of the tension drain. "It was a long time before B'Elanna forgave me, though," I remind him softly. "She resented my forcing that decision on her, and it nearly destroyed our relationship.

"I've already forced one momentous decision on Seven. I don't want to force a second. And-and if it goes wrong, we could lose Seven _and_ Icheb. I can't have that on my conscience along with everything else." I know my voice is bitter as I finish.

"Kathryn-"

"What?"

"You can't carry this burden forever. Let it go."

"No choice. I'm the captain. Out here, the buck stops with me. I'm it. The final authority." I laugh shortly. "Some authority. First, I get you all landed out here. Then I contravene people's basic human rights and self-determination- just ask B'Elanna and Seven! I try to murder crewmen who are only following orders, however wrong those orders might be. And on top of all that, I'm a bitch who's impossible to please!"

I wrap my arms tightly around my waist and lean, a little, against the bulkhead. There's a silence behind me, and I'm tempted to turn and find out whether Chakotay's still there, or whether he's left me ranting to myself. Part of me wants to laugh at the picture that creates. The other part wants to scream- or shatter.

"Kathryn." This time his voice is very near- so near, in fact, that his breath brushes the tip of my left ear. His arms snake around my waist, his hands covering mine. I stiffen. We're on duty.

"Tell me."

His voice, so soft, so caressing, relaxes something inside me, something wound so tight that it's close to breaking irreparably. I relax, a little.

"She thinks I'm disappointed in her," I whisper, harshly. "She thinks that she's failed in meeting my expectations- and she says it's her fault. How could she think that? And- even it were true, it would be my fault, and not hers." I blink. "I swore I'd never be like my father, or Tom's…"

"What do you mean?"

"If I ever had children, I swore I'd take them on their own terms, that I wouldn't judge them by unrealistically high standards. That doesn't work, I know. And I guess Seven's the nearest I'll ever have to a child of my own, one I've watched grow and develop." I take a breath, steadying myself.

"I thought it was the one redeeming thing I've achieved- rescuing Seven from the Borg, and now she's probably going to die, believing that she's failed me…"

Despite my best intentions my voice breaks, and Chakotay's arms tighten, holding me even closer. I close my eyes.

"She's not dead yet, Kathryn," he murmurs into my ear. "Even if it comes to the worst, you still have time to tell her- but I don't believe it will. We've overcome the impossible before." I feel him nuzzle my neck a little, and sink back into his embrace, lulled by the gentle warmth of his voice.

"As for the rest of it: you drive your crew hard, Kathryn, but you drive yourself the hardest of all. We know that, and it inspires the rest of us- from me right down to little Naomi Wildman- to give our all. And you never, ever, fail to commend a job well done, even if it's only with a touch. This crew loves you, Kathryn. It respects you. Perhaps it time you accepted that, and forgave yourself. If _you _can't do that, you can't expect anyone else to do it for you."

He turns me to face him, and smiles down at me, the dimples deepening. "As for kids, don't rule it out yet. We've still got time." He winks at me and I stare at him in disbelief. "Just think of it as an incentive to get home sooner rather than later."

He drops a quick kiss on my forehead and then steps away from me, visibly becoming the First Officer again, and implicitly restoring me to my own rank. "Speaking of which, I'd better get back to the bridge. Harry's minding the store."

Dumbly I nod.

My badge chirps, and I tap it. "Janeway."

"Captain, come to cargo bay two." It's Icheb's voice. It sounds- different, somehow.

I look up at my First Officer and frown. His eyes twinkle.

"You'd better get down there, hadn't you?"

For the first time in what seems like an age, I feel a smile cross my face. "Without a doubt, Commander. It never does to keep a drone waiting."

I sweep past him, the smile lingering on my lips. His laughter follows me onto the bridge and into the turbolift. I'm still grinning slightly when I step out of the lift. It's amazing how Chakotay can transform my mood with so little…

* * *

_Phoebe looked at her sister with appalled eyes. "I'm glad I decided not to join Starfleet," she whispered. "Kathryn- is that what it's been like all these years?"_

"_What do you mean?" Kathryn asked cautiously. _

"_The guilt, the responsibility- have you always felt like that because of Daddy, or is it something that developed during the years in the Delta Quadrant?"_

"_I've always felt under pressure to be a good officer because of Dad," Kathryn returned honestly. "It was easier, though, when I was in science- I'm under no illusions, I know I'm an exceptional scientist, and the chances of me failing to do my job well in that capacity were remote. Command- that's something else altogether." _

_She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "There's more pressure in Command. More responsibility. In science it's very rare that the fate of the entire crew will hang on a decision you make- in Command, that's routine. Even more so in the Delta Quadrant, and, at the end of the day, it was my fault we were there in the first place."_

"_Did the _crew_ blame you?" her sister shot back, going straight to the heart of the matter. _

"_I'll answer this," Chakotay interjected firmly. "The truth, Phoebe? Yes, at first they did. Particularly amongst the Maquis, but that changed as the years went on and we became a family. Here's an example. When Kathryn decided to destroy the Caretaker's array, B'Elanna was on the bridge with us. She turned on Kathryn. I remember her saying, in that intense way she has, 'Who is she to make decisions for all of us?'-"_

"_You stopped her as I recall," Kathryn murmured. "You said, 'She's the captain.' It was at that moment that I realised I could trust you."_

_Chakotay nodded at her in acknowledgment before continuing. "Six years later, and Kathryn was depressed after discovering that your ancestor, Shannon O'Donnell, wasn't the great innovator you were brought up to believe-"_

"_She wasn't?" Phoebe questioned, surprised. The inherited version of Shannon O'Donnell's life story was part of Janeway family legendry._

_"No, but we'll tell you about that another time, too."_

_"I suppose," Phoebe sighed. "Go on."_

_"Anyway, we'd discovered this, and it was quite shocking for Kathryn. O'Donnell had always been such an inspiration, and to find out the truth behind the legend- she was really quite devastated. Neelix, being Neelix, realised this, and planned a party. He invited all the senior staff- in fact, he insisted we come- and then informed us that when the Captain arrived, we were going to cheer her up by celebrating 'Ancestor's Eve.'"_

_"Is that a Talaxian celebration?"_

_"No. Neelix made it up," Kathryn answered. "He got me down to the mess hall by implying that there was an emergency requiring my personal attention. When I got there, he shoved a glass of –something- in my hand, and made it impossible for me to turn around and leave."_

_"Why would you want to leave a party?" Phoebe murmured. _

_"Kathryn has a firmly held belief that her presence at parties dampens the proceedings," Chakotay said drily. "That might have been true at first, but it was total nonsense by the end. So, we're all there for this fictitious event that Neelix has dreamed up, and we talked about the importance of Shannon O'Donnell for all of us. Regardless of whether her story was true or not, the results- in terms of Kathryn- were real enough, and we wouldn't give up our Captain for anything. Kathryn, being Kathryn-"_

_"That sounds vaguely insulting," Kathryn noted from across the room where she was brewing up another jorum of coffee. "What he means, Phoebe, is that I pointed out- quite accurately- that without me, chances are they wouldn't have ended up in the Delta Quadrant in the first place-"_

_"Without you we might not have survived the first two weeks!" Chakotay fired back. _

_Kathryn rolled her eyes. Phoebe had the feeling that this was an old argument. She decided to bring them back on track. _

_"Ancestor's Eve?" she reminded Chakotay. _

_He looked sheepish. Kathryn smirked. _

_"Ah. Well, Kathryn did her usual blame routine, and B'Elanna brushed her off, saying that if it hadn't been for getting stranded we wouldn't have gotten to know each other or become a family. I felt like cheering and clapping her on the back," he mused. "I'd tried telling Kathryn the same thing myself, but it didn't have the same impact."_

_"Perhaps familiarity bred contempt," Kathryn suggested sweetly. _

_"Hey!"_

_"Truth hurts."_

_"Do you mind? I'm trying to tell a story here."_

_"Just don't make it up as you go along!"_

_Chakotay widened his eyes. "Would I do that?"_

_"Two words, Commander. Angry- Warrior."_

_"Ouch."_

_"I wish I knew what you two are talking about," Phoebe complained. "Chak? Get on with it, or Kathryn can take up where she left off!"_

_"Not until I've had another cup of coffee," Kathryn told her firmly._

_"OK. OK. I can take a hint. Not that there's much more to tell. Everyone agreed, surprising Kathryn, I think- and then the Doctor took a photograph of us, all gathered around the Captain. In fact," he added, jabbing his spoon in the direction of a faded photograph on the wall that had gone unnoticed for many years, "the composition was identical to that one you have of O'Donnell and her family."_

_"How do you know who it is? I don't even know, and that picture's been there all my life!"_

_"Kathryn has the same photo," Chakotay explained simply. "We- or rather, Seven- found it in the database."_

_"Oh. What happened to your version? I'd like to see it." Phoebe flashed a wicked grin at Kathryn and Chakotay. "Mama Kate and Papa Chakotay and all the kids-"_

_"I have it upstairs," Kathryn told her quickly. "In the meantime, I think I'd better get back to _my_ story."_

_"Finally!"_


	11. Chapter 11

p a r t t e n

"Captain!"

I turn to find the Doctor tagging behind me in the corridor. I look questioningly at him.

"You were summoned, too?"

I glance at him. "Icheb doesn't seem to have grasped the chain of command yet," I comment ironically, thinking that this seems to be a characteristic of all our various waifs, strays, and refugees.

The Doctor smirks. "Remind you of anyone we know?"

My answering smile fades when we enter the cargo bay. Icheb, panting and sweating profusely, is half-in and half-out of his regeneration alcove. I bite back an exclamation while the Doctor crosses swiftly to the Borg console that controls the technology.

I place my hand on Icheb's chin and lift his red, gleaming face so that his eyes meet mine. "Icheb?"

The Doctor answers for him. "He's disengaged his cortical node!" He sounds incredulous.

"How?" I bark, dropping my hand from the young Brunali.

Icheb's voice, although faint, clangs with triumph and vindication. "My alcove. I programmed it to disconnect my neural relays."

I touch his wet face again. I look towards the Doctor, still working frantically with the console. "Can you reconnect them?"

The Doctor makes a movement that in a human would be redolent of frustration. "He's locked me out of the controls!"

I stare at him and then at Icheb. I put both my hands on the boy's face, holding it rigidly. "How could you _do_ this!"

His eyes meet mine. They are steady and cold with determination- and yes, even a touch of that Borg arrogance that has become so familiar to me in Seven.

His voice is equally implacable. "It was the only way I could prove to you that it would work."

I shake my head in unwilling admiration of his tenacity- and simplicity. Suddenly, he doubles over, groaning. I give vent to an exclamation, and the Doctor crosses to help me support him, for Icheb's a well grown sixteen-year old and no light weight when barely conscious.

"Doctor to transporter room! Three to beam directly to sickbay!"

The green-lit cargo bay disappears in a shimmer of molecules and light.

We rematerialise in sickbay, Icheb collapsed between us. Seven stares.

"What's wrong with him?" she demands, crossing to us.

I let her take my place at Icheb's side. "Icheb decided to perform a little operation on himself," I tell her as they move him towards the diagnostic biobed.

Her brows meet. "You have to reconnect his node immediately," she insists to the Doctor, to his obvious annoyance.

"I intend to!"

Icheb stirs weakly between them, and manages to raise his head. "No!" He leans forward and clutches the medical console. It's clear it's the only thing holding him up. "If Seven can refuse treatment, so can I!"

The Doctor tuts impatiently. "We don't have _time_ for this!"

Icheb turns towards him with painful slowness. The triumphant light is still in his eyes. "Check your scans. I'm already adapting."

The Doctor rolls his eyes. "_Some_ of your implants have adapted, but not all!"

"Then apply the resequencing technique I researched!"

Seven glares at both of them. "This debate is pointless. I won't accept the node!"

Icheb matches her, glare for glare. "And I won't keep it!"

I find myself admiring his ability to stand up to her. In this mood, she is formidable.

The Doctor is muttering something about someone 'using the damn thing' before it becomes defunct, but none of us are paying him any attention. Seven and Icheb are locked in their battle, and I am transfixed by them. Is this how Seven and I argue, I wonder.

"You're acting like a child!" Seven accuses- almost the worst insult she could have thought to throw at the young man.

"I'm trying to save your life!" Icheb snarls back at her.

Seven stands straight, in her 'dogmatic drone' posture. "Only because you've grown too dependent on me," she tells him, a touch of condescension in her tone.

Icheb is still hanging from the console, but his eyes spark fire at her. "You think I need to learn to rely on other people?"

"_Yes_." It's emphatic.

"What about you?" he hisses. "You've refused to rely on a single member of this crew." I flinch. That's true of Seven, but it's also largely been true of me.

"You hid your condition from the rest of us, you deactivated the Doctor, and now you're rejecting my help. _You're_ the one who needs to rely on others." He turns to me. "Isn't that what people on this ship do? They help each other?"

"Whenever we can," I assure him, feeling like a hypocrite. I'm always willing to help. Accepting it, however…I wonder how much of Seven's intransigence is due to herself, and how much she's inadvertently picked up from me.

Icheb is still talking.

"If the Captain were dying you'd risk your life to save her, wouldn't you?" Seven's eyes flick to mine, and back to him. He turns on me a second time. "And when _you_ respond to a distress call you're risking the life of everyone on this ship to respond to the aid of _strangers_!"

I look at Seven again, holding her gaze with mine. "He's right," I tell her softly. She doesn't realise I'm talking to myself as well as her. Her chin goes up.

"Captain, he's just a child!" she protests.

I smile at her, rather sadly. "I don't think he is, not anymore."

"Doctor!"

He shrugs. "Don't look at _me_."

"Please, just let us help you," Icheb whispers. He's dangerously close to total collapse, and Seven's eyes move, almost desperately, to meet mine, and then to the Doctor's, and back to Icheb. Slowly, very slowly, she nods.

The Doctor heaves a sigh composed equally of exasperation and relief. "Then let's begin."


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

e p i l o g u e

"_Did it work?" Phoebe asked with interest._

_Kathryn smiled. "Yes. It was a complete success. Seven spent a week regenerating, and then was as good as new. Icheb took a little longer, but soon he too was back on his feet."_

_"That's good," her sister responded absently. _

_Kathryn shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and when she spoke, her voice was like a whisper of crushed velvet. "I can't emphasise how- shattering!- that was for me. Seven had to accept that she's no longer a Borg, that she's prone to human fallibilities- and therefore, by Borg standards, 'imperfect.' That was very hard for her." _

_Kathryn dropped her eyes and studied her coffee cup intently. "It wasn't until that confrontation in the sickbay that I realised I'd been judging myself by very similar standards." She tried to smile. "Maybe not a Borg yardstick, but- close."_

"_Perhaps you were more affected by your own assimilation than you realised?" Phoebe suggested._

_Chakotay grinned, wryly. "Possibly- but I doubt it. She was that way from- oh, I think it was from our time in the Void. She'd always been anxious to be seen as an exemplary Captain, but from then on, that need became-" he paused and met Kathryn's eyes with his own, almost apologetically- "an obsession."_

_Phoebe looked at him with curiously. "Couldn't you do anything?"_

"_I wouldn't let him," Kathryn admitted softly. "He tried, but- I kept pushing him away. I was like Seven, refusing to depend on anyone, refusing to accept help- but quite happy to risk myself for the crew."_

"_There were times when we thought she had a suicide wish," Chakotay added, his face dark with remembered anxiety._

"_It was getting too much. The Void- that utter blackness, with nothing to do but think. And then that year it was one crisis after another, frequently involving other members of the senior staff." Kathryn swallowed. _

"_We nearly lost Seven to the Borg. B'Elanna nearly died- would, almost, have preferred to die than be saved by Cardassian doctor, albeit a holographic one. Tom went off on a crusade, and I nearly had to order the destruction of the shuttle, and him. Harry fell hopelessly in love with an alien woman, and disobeyed orders. The Doctor's program nearly self-destructed- and then, on top of that, there was the Equinox crisis! That was the final straw," she finished in a near-whisper._

_Chakotay reached for her hand again. "It was very bad. We'd argued before, Kathryn and I, but never so- catastrophically. That incident could quite easily have spelled the end of our friendship. Luckily, Kathryn's no Ransom. She realised, pretty quickly, what she'd done, and she admitted she was wrong." He squeezed Kathryn's hand. "Almost unprecedented for a captain!" he teased gently. _

"_I crossed the line. He didn't, and he did his best to hold me back." Kathryn shuddered at the memories. "The guilt nearly overwhelmed me- but this time, I managed to keep my struggles from the crew." She grimaced. "I saw how my emotional state affected their morale during our soujourn in the Void, and I wasn't prepared to put them through that again. I kept it hidden, but Chakotay knew."_

_Chakotay grinned at her. "I managed to infiltrate her defences." He waggled his eyebrows at both sisters, making them laugh and relaxing the tension that had accumulated over the course of the story-telling. _

"_How?"_

"_It was rather strange," Chakotay mused. "It was after B'Elanna's experience on the Barge of the Dead- we told you about that. Afterwards, from what I've heard, B'Elanna virtually flung herself at Kathryn, and then held on. As soon as Kathryn left sickbay, Tom commed me and told me what happened. I- had an intuition and left the bridge to Tuvok."_

"_I was in my quarters having a bit of a meltdown," Kathryn admitted. Chakotay nodded approvingly; a year before, and Kathryn would not have confessed this weakness. _

"_It sounds so odd, but- I think it was the simple sensation of being touched, and hugged. I hadn't realised how much I was starved for human warmth. Oh, I know I was always touching other people- but I was the Captain. No-one voluntarily touched me, until that day."_

"_I rang her chime. She didn't answer and I got worried. Don't ask me why. I used the override, and she was standing by the window, with her arms wrapped around her so tightly that I'm sure her shoulders ached. I simply replaced her arms with mine- and we went from there."_

"_Aww," Phoebe sighed sentimentally, her eyes damp. Her sister grinned reluctantly. Phoebe was many things, but she was not usually inclined towards tears- of sentiment or grief.  
_

"_Here," Kathryn said, handing the younger woman a handkerchief. _

"_I don't need it!" Phoebe sniffed, ignoring the proffered Starfleet-embroidered fabric square. "Was it easier for you after that, Kath?"_

_Kathryn twisted the fabric in her hands. "Yes and no. Personally, it was-nice- to have someone who cared, someone to come back to at night. Professionally, it took us a while to find a balance, I think. I was so worried about a relationship- any relationship, let alone one with my first officer- interfering with the chain of command and the welfare of the crew-"_

"_Kathryn, I don't think you ever did," Chakotay put in gravely. "Sometimes, you talked about the start of our personal relationship as you 'giving in' to me- as if it was a weakness. Even- especially- after we got home. It's as if you think you should have finished the journey alone."_

"_I felt guilty for being happy when there were people like Sam Wildman and Joe Carey who were missing their own personal lives," Kathryn admitted. "Strangely enough, I was able to control it when it looked like we were going to be in the Delta Quadrant indefinitely, but when it became clear we were going to get home significantly sooner- it was hard not to feel that I- that we- should have waited a little longer."_

"_Talk about locking the stable door after the horse had bolted!" Phoebe commented._

_Chakotay gave her a deeply dimpled smile that made his eyes sparkle. "My thoughts exactly, Phoebe!"_

_Phoebe's eyes widened. "Kathryn, if you don't want him, can I have him?"_

"_No! He's mine. You've got your own!"_

_Phoebe smiled as she thought of her own husband and family. "True." She sighed dramatically. "Doesn't hurt to try, though." _

_Chakotay gave her another of those dimpled grins. "I'm flattered, Phoebe, really, but as the lady says, I'm taken." He glanced at Kathryn. "Apart from that, though, the last year of our trip was easier for you, I think. You were less obsessive about things, and more willing to relax."_

"_Yes, that was partly due to you. You're such a nag, Chakotay! But it was also because of the thing with Seven's cortical node. Seven's comments about expectations- mine, and her own Borg-inspired standards- and then what Icheb had to say about depending on people and letting them help. It all made me stop and think, and really look at myself and the way I interact with others, both personally and professionally. _

"_I was also helping Seven with her feelings of guilt and repentance for the deeds she had to perform as a Borg- and it's very hard to preach self-forgiveness to others when you know it applies equally to you. If I wasn't to be a hypocrite, I had to learn to forgive myself for so many things, regardless of how seriously other people took those 'errors.' I had to accept that, in the words of the Borg, I'm 'damaged', 'imperfect'- but most importantly, I had to learn that that's OK." _

_Kathryn stopped to take a breath, and then looked from Chakotay, to her sister, and back to Chakotay again. Her blue eyes were clear. "It's all part of being human, isn't it?"_

_Chakotay drew her close for a kiss. "To the people who love you, you're perfect- warts and all!"_

"_Perfectly imperfect!" Phoebe agreed with a smirk._

_Kathryn smiled._

"_Perfectly imperfect," she repeated softly._

_-**fin**._

_

* * *

_

**This is the last part, obviously. I'd like to know what people think: I'm not certain I've achieved the emotional resonance OR the sense of closure I was aiming for. How well does the story hang together, especially given the contrasting narrative styles? Do I write better in conventional third person-past tense or first person-present tense? Are the touches of humour/ sentimentality appropriate? I have a horror of writing 'sap' although I have no qualms with reading it. What about the title? Does it work with the themes of the story? **

**Many thanks for reading this story and I appreciate the reviews that people have taken the time to submit. **


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